


His Fairest Lady

by Emmanuel_Park



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Ending, F/M, One-Sided Attraction, Rare Pairings, anime-verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 23:37:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5517350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmanuel_Park/pseuds/Emmanuel_Park
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drossel creates his beautiful doll with gold and silver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Fairest Lady

She was his finest embodiment of porcelain, dressed in the smoothest silk he could gather, and mixed with the colors to compliment her golden locks — yellow, pink, red, and green.

 _Yes, green._ Several shades of green gave her eyes the life he wished to portray. Its glimmer is shined that of the North Star—his proudest part of the masterpiece. In return, the process didn't give the young girl pain. She didn't scream. She didn't protest. Her silence during the creation helped him focus. Her skin went pale and her veins gradually losing its vibrant colors as delicate strokes of his brush caressing her cheek, as if comforting her from a burdened agony. How can such a lady such as she already brings so much despair like him?

Within the small gaps of time, they became two peas in a pod, she and him. He initiated a conversation with the dark chambers when his words were for the doll in-progress. Although their pain has different roots, he found himself to be bonding with it. The silent talk. The passing light of life flashing through her mesmerizing forest green eyes, but quickly dissipated when the needle struck her delicate skin.

Her skin, free from blemish, also had an ethereal glow with wax when under the light of the crescent moon, he noted. And he will ensure not even the smallest crack will make through.

Halfway through, he stopped and took a moment to gaze at the unfinished piece. The dolls were chanting to finish it already, some telling to abandon the project, envious of the time he wasted for her.

It made him envious, too. He finally knew he was capable of making something pure, yet not for himself?  _Unfair, unfair, unfair._

He took her hand in his, stroking her fingers—the strangest urge to press his filthy lips against her knuckles—if there is any mistake left, but that is left for the doubtful, for she is now rid of the ugly sorrow staining her body. It’s almost come to fruition. She's nearly flawless in his highest standards. He cannot be distracted by such intrusive thoughts. He has captured her innocence, a blind devotion, within the still light, he etched into her eyes.

He made sure it didn't hurt, the cotton filling her hollow shell.

Stepping on the maggots crawling and falling from his holes, nothing can stop him from completing her. He has grown numb to what can halt him. Hunger. Thirst. Exhaustion. Fear. Death. Even pain.

No more pain for him.

Finishing the last buttons and tying the thin pink laces, he carried her in his arms and gently placed her in one of the two velvet chairs lined with silver, the other dolls as her company, fit for the lady of the highest royalty. She looked so much younger, now, from the pink bonnet complementing her own rosy features.

He took a moment to study her eyes — unmoving and radiant — and sat beside her, playing his favorite tune for his favorite lady.

Gold and silver — it does suit her.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried.


End file.
